


Astrals

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, M/M, Vignette, old man feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 11:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Clarus doesn't think an Amicitia can be religious. Its hard to believe the same gods that put the people you love through hell are worth praying to. When the Astrals announce Noctis is the King of Kings Clarus does his best to comfort Regis.
Relationships: Clarus Amicitia/Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42
Collections: RegClarWeekReblogProject





	Astrals

Clarus is a stern sort of man but he has his soft spots. He loves his children, desperately, and, more than anything, he loves his King. He has devoted his entire life to Regis and its a promise he intends to keep.

Regis needs him today.

Iren Scientia, the third man in their administrative trinity, assures Clarus he's holding off the press and the council. The important thing, right now, is that someone talk to Regis and calm him down. The wall has not fallen, not yet, but they're holding at bare minimum and have been for the last three hours since Regis got the news. 

Astral ordained news.

Fucking Astrals.

Fucking Crystal.

Clarus loves his country but he doesn't consider himself a very religious man. He doesn't think an Amicitia can be religious. It's impossible, surely, to watch someone you love so much get yanked around by the divine and still think they're worth praying to. Regis has been yanked around a lot across the course of their lives, endlessly punished for things beyond his control, and Clarus has stood by him every year the situation worsened. Every year the Crystal took a little more of his strength, every year someone asked something more and more absurd, and now....

Clarus isn't sure how much help he's going to be right now. Where Regis is obviously distraught Clarus is _angry_. 

Regis is, unsurprisingly, in the Prince's rooms. The nannies and attendants have been dismissed. Even little Ignis Scientia, the Prince's favorite playmate, has been sent to his Uncle's office. Clarus understands but he's sure it must be distressing to the children. Lord only knows what he's going to tell Gladiolus...

Regis is on one of the settees when Clarus enters. Noctis, all of five years old, has fallen asleep in his arms. 

Clarus feels another overwhelmingly miserable surge of anger.

This isn't fair.

Regis glances up to him as he approaches but doesn't move or speak. Eyes trailing back down, red rimmed and pained, Regis tucks his face in the little Prince's hair. 

Noctis was something of a miracle.

No one thought after three miscarriages that Aulea would be able to carry Noctis to term and the effort ultimately took her life. Regis hasn't been the same since and neither has his relationship with Clarus. Clarus isn't upset. He understands why Regis feels uncomfortable inviting him into his bed now but that doesn't mean Clarus doesn't desperately miss kissing him. Still, Noctis, their precious heir, has always been sickly and moody. He's always been different.

Well now, in a way, it makes sense but...

Clarus takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table, knees bumping Regis'. His uniform is thicker than Regis' suit pants but Clarus can still feel him.

Clarus waits.

"_It's not fair_," Regis hisses in a whisper. 

"It's not," Clarus agrees. 

"He's just a baby," Regis warbles weakly. "Everything's hard enough already. We're in a corner. Couldn't they just let him be normal? Can't he just...?" Regis has to take a shaky breath to hold himself back.

Clarus glances at the back of Noctis' sleeping head. Noctis Lucius Caelum, their littlest brat, and today ordained King of Kings, Chosen, Champion of Light...and a million other shitty titles that amount to a fucking miserable life of hardship and strife fighting some fairy tale Accursed. Noctis is their champion, Noctis will save Lucius, but even if Clarus believes that he knows it'll be fucking awful work for Noctis himself. He'll suffer, he'll hurt, he'll make sacrifices, and all of them will somehow be even worse than the shit storm Regis has endured. 

Clarus has to take a deep breath himself.

"It's not fair," Regis repeats desperately.

"I know," Clarus promises. "I wish I could take it away. If there was anything we could do..." 

Honestly, some part of Clarus thinks it would've been kinder to let Noctis fade away as an infant. They spent so much energy trying to save him, for what? For a lifetime of turmoil? If Regis asked him to Clarus would set the little boy free of all that responsibility right now with his fucking sword.

But Regis would never ask that. 

Regis, despite everything, is a kind man and he adores his son. Clarus knows Regis would take a dozen miserable years with Noctis over a lifetime of good years without him. Clarus understands. 

Clarus was a jealous young man. He used to hate Weskham flirting with Regis. He'd get so furious. Furious that Regis looked at anyone else. Now? Now he knows there's nothing on this earth Regis loves more than Noctis but Clarus isn't angry. It just makes him love Regis more.

And, fuck, it makes this painful.

"I don't know what to do," Regis admits in a hoarse whisper. 

"We'll get him ready," Clarus promises. "We'll--"

"Ready to die?" Regis hisses.

Clarus sags because its true and there's nothing he can do about it.

"I'm sorry," Clarus whispers. "I'm so sorry."

Sorry he can't do the one thing he's been trained to do his whole life; protect Regis from pain. Sorry he can't protect Regis from this. 

Regis sighs.

"I'm not smart enough to work out a way to tell the gods to fucking shove it," Clarus whispers. "But I think Ignis, Gladiolus and Noctis might figure it out someday. At least Ignis." 

Regis laughs weakly. 

"Scientias are always the smartest," he sighs. 

"Yeah, exactly." Clarus smiles mournfully. "We just got to let them figure this out." 

"I suppose..." Regis consents. 

Clarus' hand finds Regis' knee and they sit there, quiet, for a moment.

"I don't think I can come back to work," Regis admits. "I can barely think let alone focus."

"I don't blame you," Clarus assures. "You stay here with him. Iren and I can handle the rest. If the Kingdom can't last one day without you then fuck it."

"I wish sometimes..." Regis trails off.

"I know," Clarus promises, because he's heard it before. He wishes it sometimes too. Wishes that he and Regis were born to nobodies. He wishes they were free to do and love as they wished. He wishes they were so small gods never considered them for prophecies. 

"Thank you," Regis murmurs. 

"You don't owe anyone thanks today." Clarus snorts. "The world should be showing you a little gratitude, I think."

"You're biased," Regis smiles weakly. 

"That's my job," Clarus shrugs, squeezing his knee. 

As Clarus stands he strokes Noctis' head in passing. The Prince is so small. How is he ever going to....? It seems absurd, cruel even. 

But, whatever happens, he'll be here all the same. 

Clarus will be here till the day someone turns the lights out in the citadel and burn his corpse on a pike. He's not leaving any other way. 


End file.
